As Heavy As Your Heart
by Nillen
Summary: AU. Slash. Tom sleeps around to find someone to love. Harry might as well, do the same. 3rd and last installment is up. Completed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning : Look out for OOC-ness (nothing extremely annoying, trust me)

Thanks to** faded. brilliance.** for editing this. :D

* * *

The first thing that Tom realized when he woke up was that the other side of the bed was empty. He quietly traced his fingers against the lingering warmth on his side, his companion's scent, chamomile with mint fresh in his senses. His eyes closed and Tom counted to three before opening his eyes.

He expected the other man had left, probably there was a note placed on his nightstand, explaining his absence or probably he just left without any clue. Well, Tom knew him very well; Tom knew where to find him. What he didn't expect was that the black haired man standing in the doorway of his bedroom, wearing nothing but Tom's button up shirt, barely covering his ass and he was chuckling, a glass of red wine in his hand.

"Awake, log?" he teased, not moving from his spot. A pair of black rimmed glasses framed his forest green eyes, but nevertheless, they still looked beautiful, and brilliant to Tom. Tom let out a lazy chuckle, stretching his naked body underneath the thick comforter and Harry laughed at his response.

"I thought you're gone." _Like always_.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips curled into the seductive smile that Tom had come to obsess over and he gracefully made his way to the bed. His hips swayed like how he did in his work – modeling – causing Tom's unnaturally red eyes to skim down his body. He placed his glass on the nightstand and crawled on top of Tom's lean, muscular body. When standing, Harry barely reached his nose and he always loved the position when he get to ride Tom, to look down at him and enjoyed the height advantage for once.

Because Tom likes him – maybe even love him, but that word was so strong that Tom always found it too raw to be said – he let Harry do it.

Harry grinned down at him, his glasses slipping down to the bridge of his nose and Tom took them off before examining them.

"I see that you've bought a new pair." Tom commented almost nonchalantly, as if he did not have a Harry Potter currently straddling his lap. Harry leaned down to rest on his chest, his fingers picking on the soft dark hair there.

"I wore it last night; right after the party was over. But I bet you were too distracted by my outfit to even look at my face. Did the black jeans fit me snugly?" Harry murmured; a hint of smile in his voice. Tom let out a small groan, his hands grabbed Harry's ass and his lips found his left ear to bite. Harry let out a moan and shamelessly starting to rut himself on Tom, the duvet between them only adding the friction. Tom's brain was starting to get fuzzy, his consciousness jumbled up and down, the feeling of Harry's body against his own has always been the trigger. Tom wasn't sure when is it ever going to stop.

He felt Harry rubbing his palm against his arousal, everything was jumbled together into a hot blur and Tom couldn't remember what happened next but whatever happened; nothing else was worth as much as it did.

Like always.

* * *

Tom had always found that by having a lover – partner, girlfriend, boyfriend or whatever it's called – is going to pull him down, will become a liability and would ruin him and his life. His family is wealthy, owning several business companies and fortunately for him, Tom is the only living heir of the Riddle. He's got the looks, the brains, the charisma and most importantly, he's got the money.

Nothing is lacking in his life.

Tom spent nights alone, most of the nights anyway but there were times when women and men occupied his bed. He tried to find the one that deserves to be by his side, he opened his arms for others, just to see, just to test whether that particular person is the one or not. Whether he or she is the one that won't pull him down, won't become a liability, and won't ruin him and his life.

He happened to find it in one Harry James Potter.

Tom had loathed it when he had to attend a modeling night performance, courtesy to his business partner that insisted for him to come. He sat down in the VIP seat, eyes wary as he sipped from his glass of champagne. Maybe he should have seen it coming when a male model suddenly stepped out, body lean, short but there were glimpses of defined muscles underneath his black button up shirt. His hair was messy, Tom doubted it was intentionally styled as such – Tom was proven right later that night – and he had the forest green eyes that stunned Tom in his seat.

His brain said it was just for a one night stand.

But his heart had beaten so fast and Tom had forgotten how to breathe for a while.

* * *

It wasn't hard – how Tom got Harry into his bed.

Harry himself socialized with so many people – and sometimes Tom wondered what number is he in Harry's bed partner's list – and an offer for coffee was enough to attract his attention. Harry had barely paid attention to the Rolex watch he wore, his leather shoes, his Ralph Lauren suits and even his Clive Christian's perfume. He just looked into Tom's red eyes, his own green aided with contact lens dilated and he whispered 'Coffee in my apartment, name's Harry James Potter. I know you'll find me' before he left Tom speechless, standing in the middle of an after party.

Tom was not an individual that people dared to go against. He held power in his hand, his knowledge of his advantages – of his wealth, his look, his charisma, his brain – made him one of the most famous person in the state.

But when Harry and he had finished with the fourth round of sex, with Harry drawing lazy circles on his chest and his hair smelled wonderful regardless the untamed look it held, Tom was once again struck silent by Harry's lack of acknowledgement of him. Harry had asked, with sly smiles and pretty eyes – although they were blurry in the dark – about him. He didn't ask personal things, just his full name and his place. And Harry didn't even seem to be shocked when he realized he has one of the billionaires of the state in his bed, causing Tom to want him more; to crave him more.

Because Harry took him as Tom, not as Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Because Harry took him as whom he is, not as who he is supposed to be.

* * *

Tom stifled a sigh as he sensed a presence behind his leather chair. He believed that he had left the door closed, demanding no one to enter his study in his large mansion. He had left Harry sleeping on his bed and ensued with his never-ending work. But tiredness took over him, causing him to nod into a minute of unconsciousness and then, there Harry was, wrapping his arms around Tom's neck from behind. His hair tickled Tom's temple and Tom turned to press a kiss against the gravity defying hair.

Harry sighed against his neck, his body slumping in a position to drape himself over Tom's back, but prevented by the chair.

"It's 8 AM, Tom, let's get breakfast instead of playing husband to your work." Harry suggested, a lazy lick on his neck caused Tom to involuntarily shiver. Tom placed his pen on top of his papers and his arm reached back to grab on Harry's slim waist to pull him into his lap. The young model let out an 'eep!' and Tom proceeded to ravish his mouth.

Harry has no morning breath. All he has are a beautiful body, with beautiful eyes, a beautiful smile, a beautiful laugh and beautiful everything. Tom was intoxicated.

Tom couldn't even stop imagining Harry writhing underneath him, screaming his name and bucking to get away when Tom's grip on his hips probably bruised him. He couldn't stop imagining even though it was someone else under him, screaming his name and surrendering to his demands. Tom wanted to find someone who could make him think of them – Tom was not all that sure Harry was the one so he continued to sleep around –.

The bad thing about it was, Harry was not even bothered.

Tom swept aside his papers and all his things away from his large mahogany table, just to slam Harry face down on top of it. Then he realized Harry was wearing the midnight black yukata with sakura flowers tainted with red colour instead of pink. He wore it last night for his performance and had laughed when Tom asked him whether or not it was okay for him to dirty the outfit.

He said that the yukata he wore was given to him for his achievement and Tom had taken him against the wall behind the fashion show building, his yukata opened to reveal his pale white chest and Tom had thrust his cock into him in feverish movements, unable to let his mouth off Harry's skin even for half a second. They had sex somewhere Tom would have deemed 'disgusting, not up to his standard' but he had willing to have sex there. Tom wondered whether it was because he wanted – loved – Harry so much or because the place was so unworthy, and the sex should have been meaningless anyway, that's why he agreed.

Tom slipped his hands underneath the silky, thin yukata that covered his eyes from Harry's – beautiful – body. He heard the younger man moan, his hands went searching for Tom's hips, probably to find a hold. Tom hissed against his right ear, Harry's body was warm and Tom could feel his cum leaking from Harry's hole from their previous bout by placing his finger upon it.

"I think this is better than breakfast." Tom murmured, rubbing his rock hard cock still covered by his slacks against the model's bottom. Harry panted heavily, unable to stop from pushing back and rutting against Tom's cock. Tom found this to be quite discouraging and he bit on his younger companion's – Lover? Partner? – ear.

"You love this, do you, Harry? Being held like this? Rutted on? Be used?"

Harry whimpered, scrambling to pull away his yukata only to get his hands held above his head by one of Tom's.

"T-Tom!"

Tom used his other hand to unzip his slacks and pushed the lower part of the yukata that covered Harry's ass from his eyes up.

"You look so innocent sometimes, so sexy next. I couldn't decide which part of you that I'd prefer." He continued, his hand coating his own cock with his saliva, deciding to not prepare Harry at all. The leaking cum should be enough as lubrication. Harry screamed when he slid his cock between Harry's cheeks, teasing him even more.

"Screamer, aren't you? You won't care who you scream for as long as someone stuffs this greedy hole of yours, push something inside, something big, too big, that give others pain but you, pleasure."

"Ngaah… Tooom!" Harry screamed even louder when he pushed inside. Tom had to bite his lower lip to prevent from groaning because of the tightness and when Harry pushed back, his body slick with sweat and dripping cum, Tom lost himself. He closed his eyes and felt something warm dripped from the corner of his eyes –perhaps a drop, or two – and went to place butterfly kisses behind Harry's neck before fucking him thoroughly.

In his haze, Tom knew he had lost himself.

Because he knew that he'd do anything to be the one Harry looks for.

Because he knew that he'd do everything to be the one Harry likes – loves – forever.

* * *

Tom slept around.

He opened his arms to people he deemed worth his standard, worth to occupy his bed.

Because he wanted to look and search and find and maybe, just maybe, fall in – love – with someone. His father said he lacked feelings. His mother never said a thing. So Tom spent his time doing his work, opened his arms, his bed and his brain – not _heart_, _never_ heart, not until Harry – to people that wanted him. Which were so many until Tom couldn't even remember, had he ever said 'I –love – you' to some of them.

Probably not.

Because the next day, Tom always – always, always, always, until him, until those green eyes, until those playful smiles – decided that they were unworthy. Unworthy for everything.

And then, once upon a time in his life, he had run into the arms of Harry James Potter, instead of the other way around.

* * *

Tom got drunk one night. He was quite angry at his coworkers and their disability to do their job right at least once. He thought of firing all of them and hiring new ones. He thought maybe that would be the right decision.

Like how he did with people in his life.

He contemplated to return to his house – the large, quiet mansion – and when he finally found his ground, he was standing in front of a familiar plain white door, with a nameplate engraved with a 'Harry J. Potter' upon it.

He grunted, – something he would never admit he did in his sober mind – and pressed the bell. He pressed again and again and again until Harry opened it, hair messy, skin flushed and was wearing nothing but a blanket to cover his lower part. Tom had to squint because of the bright light from the apartment and Harry looked surprised to see him. Tom stepped inside, ignoring Harry's question about his sudden appearance and he tried his best as well, to ignore another man, who was rushing to get back into his clothes and ran out from the door that Harry had opened for him.

He opened his mouth, sleepy and drunk and dazed, and he saw Harry reaching out to stabilize him. Before he lost his feet, he grabbed Harry by his waist, pulling his naked body flush against his own and dropped himself down on the couch – that was occupied by another man with Harry a minute ago – and Harry on top of him.

Harry gripped his shoulders, his face buried in Tom's neck and he laughed quietly, muttering something about Tom being drunk and a cockblocker.

Tom muttered that Harry was the one, causing Harry to look up at him. In his daze, Tom could still make out of those pretty green eyes and plump lips. And Tom was so afraid – something he wouldn't admit as well in his sober mind – that he might have heard 'I love you'.

That Tom might have heard 'I love you' from his own mouth, and that he was so scared that Harry may have heard it.

And 'Love' was a very strong word to come between them, to replace the emptiness between their bodies when they sleep at night and to make Harry stop looking for his 'the one' because fate was a royal pain in the ass and karma was a bitch.

* * *

The next morning, he woke up with Harry acting like nothing had happened and gulped down a glass of water with pills to kill his hangover.

* * *

Tom stood proud in his appearance, socializing with people he found bearable in a high class party held in one of his business partners' mansion. His hand swirled his glass of red wine as he listened to people surrounding him. But his red eyes focused on the familiar black raven hair of one Harry James Potter.

The model was leaning against the wall, talking with few people and laughed – beautifully – at their words. Tom excused himself from his group and decided to approach the young model when Harry suddenly turned to his left side, his eyes brightening like nothing Tom had ever seen.

A tall blond approached and swooped Harry – Tom's lover – up into his arms and kissed him. The kiss was gentle, only a peck on the lips but Harry was looking up at him in a daze.

The same way Tom had at Harry– and will always have –.

Tom stood still, the grip on his drink tightened and his red eyes darkened. He quietly turned around and left, his insides screaming and crunched by thousands of words, thousands of wordless feelings that he could not get out.

Because Tom had found Harry.

Only to find out, Harry couldn't see him.

.

.

.

End.

* * *

A/N : I'm planning for a trilogy, depends on the outcome I receive. But that's not really a point here, right? Haha. I bet most of you guys are thinking of Draco. But nooo, I'm a fan of Cedric. -insert hearts-

Review please.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter.

Thanks to **melkkj20, HollyEmpire00, Aesterisk, Lizzie's last night, Anon, Guest, delatrix, DHeiress88, GothicDebby, Evi15, fitha, A Single Fragile Rose, DawnScarlet19610, kshadow, thegirlwholovesdrarry, Brookie cookie17, fanficCraze, SweetScarlett97, Ricano, olciak123, sun, rose, Chi Takashi, krm3DeeDee, dollop, Falling up Wonder Struck, PedoiseTrancy, Dizashe, Artemis, dracowillbeloved, Guest,** and **Perfidious** for all those lovely reviews. I'm so sorry that I couldn't find time to reply it but hey, you guys are the best. :D

* * *

"I love you."

Harry's eyes widened, his hands froze as they were about to run themselves over Tom's black hair. The words echoed in his surroundings and it took a second too long for Harry to interpret it. He didn't realize it but he gasped when those words escaped the man, who has just fallen asleep with his body across Harry's leather couch and Harry on top of him.

And if anyone ever asked him, what would he do if Tom was still sober after his drunken confession, waiting for a reply or something, or _anything_ from Harry, Harry might've said he loves him too.

* * *

The next day, Tom woke up with a large hangover and Harry only smiled, leaving him a glass of water and pills to alleviate his pain.

* * *

"Something's wrong?" Cedric quietly asked him, his arm firm around Harry's shoulders as they sat down together on Cedric's couch, the television in front of them showing the latest action movie his lover had picked. Harry nodded stiffly, blinked his eyes when he realized he had been staring into space for more than a few minutes. Then he shook his head slightly and tried to smile.

"I think I might have been asleep with my eyes opened." He tried to crack a joke, hoping that his miserable voice didn't give him away.

He could feel the vibration of Cedric's laughter in his chest and Harry let out a small smile, looking up at the blond lawyer. The arm around him tightened, causing Harry to lean more towards the older man.

"That bored, huh? I told you that you should pick the movie, not me." Cedric grinned before nuzzling his nose on top of Harry's black messy hair. Harry buried his face against Cedric's chest, but his mind keeps replaying the scene at the party.

He didn't think that Tom would disappear before his eyes in that span of a minute, where he turned to greet Cedric. He had wanted to speak to Tom, since it was awkward between them after the last time they met in Harry's apartment. Granted, he didn't know what happened – perhaps Harry didn't want to know – but Tom was a good acquaintance. It wasn't meant to end up with both of them dancing around each other, untouched but craving for something more.

But Harry still couldn't stop the thought that maybe, maybe this is it.

This is it; for them.

Maybe, it is better like this.

* * *

Harry James Potter met Tom Marvolo Riddle in an afterparty for one of his best fashion shows. He was modeling for a up and rising fashion company, and when he was on the stage, there, on the left side of the audience, sitting at the row of VIPS, was one attractive man. He was staring at Harry, blue eyes secretive like he knows something that Harry doesn't. Harry almost got distracted by it, but he kept his posture fixed and graceful, turning away from the man with a small grin of his own.

People would say it was cliché but Tom shined like no other. With his infamous smirk on his face, his body posture showing his arrogance and highlighting his high status, Harry couldn't keep his eyes off him at the party after the show.

Harry was well known for his one night stands, something that Harry wasn't really proud of. He wanted a relationship but there was no one who could keep up with his crazy working hours, his failure to turn up for important days and his tendency to fall into bed with popular and rich people. The latter, was something that he couldn't control. He always had this one faith that if he wanted someone so much, he wouldn't look for another. And Harry also believed in true love, he believed that he deserves to cut off relationships in the early stages if he knew there was nothing for him and his partner in the future.

But, Tom… Tom was something. Tom was something else. Tom was that man who keeps up with him with his crazy hours, his flirting habit, and his bad, bad behaviours. Tom was that man, who just keeps coming back and makes out with him behind his performing stage. Tom was that man who keeps him grounded and sane, making sure he wouldn't lose his ground but wouldn't ruin his career.

Tom was the man, who kissed him on his forehead, with his blue eyes half lidded; staring at Harry with such passion that Harry thought Harry might be his world.

Nobody does what Tom does to him.

And Harry, on that one night, with warm tears welling in his eyes and his hands trembling while clutching on Tom's black scarf – which smells just like Tom, like his expensive Clive Christian's perfume, like rain… like _love_ – decided that whatever is between them now, it can't go on.

Not like this.

Not anymore.

* * *

"Ahh! Ahh!" Harry tried to pull away from the harsh grip Tom had on his hips, his own hands grasping the bed cover tightly while Tom kept pounding into him. Harry tried to hide his face in the pillow, his mind dazed with lust and he couldn't get away from Tom, no matter how hard he tried; he _wouldn't_.

"Damn it, Harry, are you just like this with everyone else who fucked you? Submissive? Like a slut?" Another harsh thrust sent Harry forwards screaming, his voice stifled by the pillow and he felt Tom sucking a pulse point on his nape. Harry wanted to cry at one point, weighted down by his hunger for Tom and how his hand reached out to grip Tom's on his hip, tightly as if to tell him 'Don't leave'.

'_Don't ever leave.'_

Harry wanted to cry, to give himself release, to do anything, everything, to run away from Tom when he felt something dripping on his neck that was definitely not sweat, drops that Harry told himself he only imagined. But this thing between them was killing him, this sex, this unwarranted desire and Harry wasn't ready to face the truth.

He felt Tom's steady thrusts starting to stutter and Tom bit him on his shoulder, his cock pumping into Harry faster but on an unsteady pace, causing Harry to gasp at every pound into his hole. With a shout, both of them came at the same time and promptly collapsed; Harry onto the wet puddle on the sheet and Tom on top of him.

Harry closed his eyes, his breathing uneven and he felt Tom moved his hands to wrap them around his waist from behind, before slowly pulling Harry up to lie on his side with Tom spooning him. A lazy smile appeared on Harry's face without him realizing it. He carefully held Tom's clasped hands on his stomach with his own, brought one of Tom's hands to his lips and kissed it. He could feel Tom stiffening behind him but Harry tried to ignore it as he slowly relaxed his back against Tom's broad chest.

Harry has always been a tad shorter than normal men. His body small, petite, lithe but there were compact muscles visible to those who has seen him naked. But when he lies down with Tom beside him, Tom easily towered over him, blatantly overpowering him. It didn't seem to bother Harry like how it does when Cedric did it.

Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on Tom's hands, snuggling deeper into Tom's arms at the same time. He felt Tom press a gentle, almost chaste kiss on his naked shoulder and Harry tried his best to control the shivers from it to show.

It shouldn't feel like this. Shouldn't feel like how Harry had hoped Tom would treat him and want him. Cedric was there for Harry now, willing to stay no matter how much Harry insisted that he didn't want him, didn't need him.

It ached in every place now, how the blond had been perfect before, when Harry thought Tom didn't want him. And how Cedric is all false and wrong, when Harry thought Tom might want him now.

"Something's wrong?" Tom murmured in his ear. Harry shook his head slowly and then paused for one surprised second, his eyes turning wide open at the question. Harry then quickly pushed away from Tom and his warm arms, trying to get as far as he could from him. It appeared to startle the older man because he quickly sat down when Harry tensely collected his scattered clothes hurriedly from Tom's bedroom floor.

"Harry?" Tom called him, face confused but agitated at the same time. Harry ignored him in order to pull on his jeans but the older man couldn't take the treatment. He was up and close into Harry's personal space, all naked in his glory and his blue eyes sharp, almost menacing.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed, his hands stiff on his sides and if Harry didn't know better, he'd thought Tom was going to grab or hurt him.

No.

"What the hell is wrong with _you_?" Harry shot back, looking up although his sight was quite blurred by his lack of glasses or contact lenses. He heard a sharp intake of breath by Tom and then the older man stepped closer to him, towering over him in the way that Harry had always, frighteningly, loved.

Harry stood his ground, waiting for any unleashing of anger or shouts or orders for him to leave, to get out. The silence was heavy in the air, making the younger man sweat but inwardly he trembled, but he wasn't prepared for when Tom's eyes softened – it was barely seen, but Harry had known Tom enough after years being in his bed, being with him, to miss the sad, fragile look that Tom laid upon him even only for one second – and his voice almost broke something hard.

Harry thought it might have broken his heart.

"I need you."

Harry wanted to cry.

"… No, you don't."

A slam to the door was all Harry could give Tom as he left as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

Harry had loved Tom ever since the first time he saw him.

And the first time Tom touched him, Harry was out of breath and Harry didn't know when he was going to breathe again.

Harry blamed it all on his attractiveness, his ability to control himself and use all his powers to its fullest capacity. Harry was a rising star in the modelling industry, he is not what you call a billionaire but he was close enough, he graduated from university, has good social relationships and connections by his parents and his friends in said university but never had he meet someone like Tom.

But it was disturbing, knowing that Tom saw him as something not more than that.

* * *

"Harry, I have to tell you something." Harry abruptly stopped his breakfast preparations, but then quickly turned off the stove and placed the newly made pancakes on his plate. Cedric's was already stacked on top of the kitchen bar, next to a bottle of syrup and chocolate sauce. Cedric was wearing his yoga pants, a smile on his face and his hair looked exactly like he was, rolled out from the bed; messy, adorable.

"What is it?" Harry smiled, wiping his hands on his – Cedric's – apron. The young lawyer slowly approached him and pecked him on his lips.

"You might want to sit down first."

* * *

Harry met Cedric Diggory one night when he was at the bar. He had been working nonstop since last week, trying to find time here and there for his personal life that didn't really exist while running around to get a rise in his career. He got many jobs offered to him; some of them even sent him out from London for shooting sessions. Harry loved travelling, it made him feels small and that he still got a lot more to chase after. It feels like a challenge.

Harry sat alone in the bar, finally having a day off to calm down his chaotic world. He tried calling for Tom but Tom had answered, only to tell that he was away for an important meeting in Dubai. Harry might have sulked and refused to get hooked up with his other acquaintances.

He wanted to just finish his drink off and then head back to his apartment for bed. But then he realized someone was staring at him from across the bar, blinking a pair of brown eyes at him as Harry stared back. It was a funny, staring competition that first caused Harry to frown but later, laughed when Cedric surrendered to defeat by a wink of his eye instead of a blink.

Harry didn't know Cedric's first name by the time he left the bar, only his last one. He only learned that Cedric is a young man looking for adventure, his phone number that Cedric put himself into Harry's cellphone and a silver ring Cedric had purposely slipped onto his finger when a man who Harry had slept once with suddenly appeared and tried to hit it on with him again.

Cedric had called him Mr. Harry Diggory while wrapping an arm around his waist and gave an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.

Harry had laughed nonstop after the man left with a pale face.

By the end of the night, Harry left the bar with no one to warm his bed.

* * *

Cedric was different, definitely leagues away from Tom if Harry was to describe and differentiate them.

In which Cedric was playful, Tom was serious. Cedric was friendly, Tom was possessive. Cedric was all smiles and curiosity while Tom was all smirks and know-it-all. Cedric was warmth, Cedric was gentle touches, and Tom was all lust and passion and flames and _love_.

Cedric was not Tom.

And Tom was all Harry ever wanted.

* * *

Harry tightened his grip on his car steering, trying to gather all courage he has and he believed that he was failing very badly. He needed to do this, needed to face the reality that he couldn't grasp no matter how hard he tried. Maybe if he survived this, then he'll be able to not look back.

He left his black convertible outside of the large mansion's front yard, chuckling softly at the thought of how a rich bachelor like Tom prefers to keep and live in his family mansion rather than living in a modern house instead.

The butler who greeted him smiled at him, already knowing Harry as one of Tom's important guests because of his tendency to sleep over. Harry started to feel the nervousness seep back into his nerves. He only fisted his hands and slowly made his way into where he knew Tom would be.

His study.

(Tom had once told him when they just finished with their rounds of hot, passionate sex, that Harry was the only person he ever allows to enter his study and would not be shouted at. Harry thought of telling Tom that Tom was the only man he ever allows to have unprotected sex with him.

Harry didn't.)

He carefully opened the large, mahogany door to the room but then he was surprised to see Tom already standing there, as if he had been waiting for Harry to make his appearance.

The first one since he had last left Tom with anger and frustration and misery.

The first one since a fortnight ago.

Both of them stood still, trying to figure out how to response to the suddenly awkward situation and for Harry, how to start breaking the news of why he was there. Tom then gave a stiff nod, opening the door larger for Harry to enter. Harry gave a small smile, slowly entering and then followed Tom to the bar where he kept most of his favourite alcoholic drinks.

But Harry refused to sit, only continued to stand even though Tom had taken out a bottle of scotch and two glasses for them. He tried to look at the older man, to not flinch away at how Tom looked at him now, with no expression on his face and his eyes void of any emotions.

"Tom-"

"Why are you here, Harry?" Tom cut him smoothly, but his voice lacks his usual firmness, as if he had given up trying to figure out them. Harry tried to ignore the ache that suddenly throbbed inside of him. He instead tilted his head slightly to the side and looked away.

"I'm moving to New York."

Tom's eyes widened, his grip on the glasses loosened and Harry was relieved that they were already on top of the counter, if not, they would fall and shatter.

Harry just wasn't sure they'll shatter like whose heart; Tom's or his.

The older man didn't say anything for a few minutes, he looked blank and Harry wondered if he had heard him clearly or that Harry needed to repeat it. Actually Harry couldn't really understand why he was here to tell Tom about him moving away but he felt like he owed Tom something. Because Harry wouldn't have the chance to experience all those beautiful things he had with Tom if he didn't meet him before, no matter how things are ending between them now.

When the silence seemed to drag along, Harry just wanted to turn and leave, maybe toss in a good 'farewell' too-

"Why?" Tom voiced out suddenly and Harry was struck with how harsh his voice sounded, like something had been taken away from him and he couldn't do anything to stop it. But Harry didn't want to dwell on it for too long.

Because dwelling on it would drag him further into their unstable, unhealthy, unbecoming relationship.

"Cedric got a promotion. He is transferred to New York and he asked me to move out together with him." Harry stated, trying his best to make it sound casual but when Tom's eyes narrowed, it seemed that he failed, perhaps quite horribly.

"Cedric, _the_ boyfriend?" Tom taunted, stepping forward, away from the bar and closer to Harry. Harry could smell him better when he was closer and now all Harry wanted was to fall into him, to wrap his arms around Tom's taller build and pressing his face against his shoulder, like how he used to do. But Tom had another idea, as he grabbed onto Harry's wrist.

"What? Now you're trying to be a good little husband for your new toy and leave your dark, dirty past?" a smirk appeared on his face as his vicious grip tightened.

'_Leave me_' was left unheard but Harry saw it clear in his masked, pained eyes. Harry hissed back at him, pulling his hand back and pushed on Tom's chest to get away from him.

"I don't know, maybe I do!" Harry shot back, suddenly getting defensive and angry. He refused to let this get him down, it was enough that they had been playing each other ever since they met, Harry didn't need this, didn't need _this_ when he was about to _move_ – damn it – _on_.

"Harry, stop with all these nonsense. You want me, you want this. Stop lying to yourself-"

"I'm not lying to myself, you're the one that have been playing with people's feelings like they are your bloody toys! You are the only one who have been lying to yourself your whole life."

"And now you're acting like you know me very well, do you? What is it that's not enough? Was it the money? The popularity? The sex?"

"Tom, you're all over your head. Some people just need something new, some people just want to leave all those things that have been hurting them, some people don't need all these dramas-"

"Harry-"

"And some people just want to stop loving someone who plays with their feelings like he bloody owns them and move on-"

"Why can't you just accept the fact that I love you, damn it?!"

Harry's green eyes were wide with unshed tears and Tom was so close again, their noses almost touching and Harry wanted so much to hurt something, to hurt someone.

"No, Tom… You don't get to do this to me anymore." Harry softly whispered, looking down as the older man's expression changed into something heart wrenching.

"I want you, you know… Ever since I knew you. I knew you couldn't do it, that you can want me, love me like how I want it to be with you. If you can't give me that, Tom, please… _please_ just let me have someone who will. I need you… to make me let you go." Harry continued, his voice finally broke at the end of his sentence and Tom let out a painful, raw whimper.

Harry didn't want this. Harry wanted Tom. Harry wanted to stop being stubborn and just accept whatever that Tom was willing to give him. He said he loved him, that must be something, isn't it? But why hurt himself for Tom who couldn't even see Harry in his entirety, when Cedric was there trying and failing but still kept on trying?

Tom raised a hand, tried to pull Harry closer to him but Harry grabbed his hand gently before it even managed to touch his body. The act was cruel, devastating, when all Tom was doing screamed 'don't leave' and Harry wanted to stay but Tom wouldn't let go of his ego, wouldn't look at Harry like how he honestly felt, and this game was cruel.

Harry slowly lowered down his hand but clasped Tom's in both of his hands, their hands trembled and there was silence – but silence was never enough when it comes to Tom Marvolo Riddle and Harry James Potter – and Harry couldn't stop himself from tiptoeing up and pressing a kiss on Tom's right temple; painfully, gently, lovingly.

"I love you too, you know… But you can't do this to yourself anymore, Tom. You need to be in love… not just to love." He whispered softly and Tom turned to lay their foreheads together; his eyes closed tight.

At the end of silence between them, Harry wasn't sure who left first and who stayed last.

But it was clear that nobody was left unhurt.

* * *

The day Harry was at the airport with Cedric, sitting in the waiting lounge room for their flight to New York, Harry was all fidgety and nervous. His cellphone was switched off in his bag, his hands trembling as they played with the hem of his cotton sweater. He couldn't stop looking back at the entrance and only managed to smile reluctantly when Cedric raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

"Something's wrong?"

"_I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this. I… Harry, I don't believe in feelings. I don't even think I believe in love."_

"No… No, everything is fine, Cedric, everything… everything is all fine."

* * *

_Hi, this is Harry James Potter. I'm currently unable to take your call. Please leave your name, phone number, and a brief message, and I will contact you as soon as possible. Thanks._

"Mr. Potter, we're from Royal London Hospital. We are calling you on Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle's quickdial as we're unable to reach his emergency contacts. Can you please come to the hospital as soon as possible? Mr. Riddle was involved in an accident and we need someone to come up for him as soon as possible. Thank you."

.

.

.

END.

* * *

A/N : The third installment is coming up, not soon but it will. :D Thank you for reading this.

Review please.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer : I do not own Harry Potter.

Finally, the third and last installment. I hope I don't disappoint, but the story does getting more ridiculous as it goes by. Better put a stop on it now, yeah.

**By the way, to Guest that flamed me, bear in mind that you are one ridiculous person. The usage of 'yukata' in this story is because the outfit is named 'yukata' and Harry wore the yukata for his show as a model. The next time you insult those who love anime, do it with pride and dignity, sign into your account and not as anonymous. You are one disappointing, shameless, individual.**

Anyway, thank you to **Kebbi, Yuzuyu, Shoujixyo-chan, Demitea, Ricano, trollalalala, DHeiress88, Toko Kyotaro, school-hetic, Hell's Aphrodite, GothicDebby** and **Miss Twinkie** for all those lovely reviews for chapter 2 :D I am so sorry that I have no time to reply, school has been really hectic these days. :/

**This story is edited by faded. brilliance.** Thank you so very much dear. :D And a **correction**, in first chapter I stated that Tom's eyes were red but in second I stated they were blue. I'm going with blue now, so please ignore red no matter how sexy Tom is with them. :D

* * *

Tom drowsily blinked his eyes open; the sudden interference of the sunlight from his open window startled him from his good sleep. He turned to look towards the window and slowly, a smile curved on his lips. The sight of Harry, clothed only in his large white shirt and doing the curtain to its bind, was something that Tom wanted to wake up every morning to. His black, messy hair formed a halo as the sunlight falls on him. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Tom as well and a grin appeared on his face, blinding Tom with his attractiveness.

"Awake, log?" Harry teased him as he slowly walked back towards him. Tom reached out a hand and curled his fingers to grip on Harry's hair. The younger man sighed softly before he crawled up the king sized bed, into Tom's arms.

His left hand curled on top of Tom's chest and Tom watched with fascination – no matter how long it had been – at the silver ring resting on Harry's fourth finger. He carefully nudged his own left hand against Harry's, their wedding rings clicked together with a sound that Tom wouldn't mind to hear his whole life.

"Morning, Harry." Tom murmured, pressing a kiss on top of Harry's head and he could feel Harry's laughter rumbled on his chest.

"Good morning to you too, darling."

* * *

"Do you want to come inside?" Harry smiled awkwardly, standing in front of his apartment's building with Tom close to him. Tom gave a small smile in return, trying to present himself immaculately in public as well as trying to get over the fact that they just had hot, passionate sex inside of his car.

The rain was heavy, all stormy and windy but Tom couldn't find himself to step into Harry's home only to spend time together, without sex. It didn't seem right.

But it did _feel_ right.

Only Tom refused to accept it was.

"Maybe next time." Tom nodded at him and he told himself that there was no way Harry was disappointed at his rejection. Harry was just trying to be a good and nice person, inviting Tom to his place because it was raining and all.

He was just imagining how the light, bright – like hope – in Harry's green eyes dimmed slightly after that.

"It's raining." Harry replied instead, his body posture suddenly changed into something defensive and Tom raised an eyebrow at him.

"What is really that important?" Tom frowned, ignoring the way his tone sounded – like he didn't want to stay, like he didn't want Harry – and Harry bit his lower lip, as if he tried to cut off any bad remarks he was about to throw at Tom. They stood there staring at each other for a moment and when it became a minute too long, Tom sighed slowly. He took off his black scarf from his neck and carefully wrapped it around Harry's.

"Here, you take this. I'm going to Germany tomorrow for a business convention, maybe I'll come back in two week time. Call me if you need anything." Tom quietly stated. The cold in his voice, he held firmly, afraid that if he sounded fond, it would give him away.

It would break his hard demeanor, which he had taken so long to perfect.

"Tom," suddenly he felt Harry's gloved hands holding on his – where his were holding tight onto each end of the scarf he had wrapped around Harry's neck – and it scared him, the so much want and something else that Harry had in his eyes.

"I know what you are doing… Tom, I-"

This was wrong. They barely knew each other, only approximately a year, to be talking about _this_.

This thing called _feeling_.

Tom narrowed his eyes at the shorter man, blue eyes sharp and he tightened his hands on the black scarf before pulling away.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

Harry blinked up at him, but the thin line that his lips had formed into showed very much of his stubbornness; one of the traits that Tom hated – and loved – about Harry so much.

"Look into it, would you?"

(Look into us. Maybe we're meant to be something. Look into me. Maybe I'll love you one day as how you love me.)

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this. I… Harry, I don't believe in feelings. I don't even think I believe in love."

It was something foolish to say but Tom couldn't find any better words to describe what he was feeling. He was trying to cover up a weakness, the same thing that defeated him before, the same thing that was gone from his life.

(The same weakness that Tom didn't want to return but then, _Harry_ happened.)

Harry was silent for a moment, his green eyes dazed and Tom wanted to wipe the look away from his pretty face. But then he looked up at Tom again and a smile was pasted on his face. It looked faked as much as Tom was concerned, but he despised to think of the reasons why it was, so he convinced himself that it was real instead.

"Okay. Good night, Tom. Have a safe journey to Germany tomorrow."

* * *

They were nearing the entrance when Harry felt that he couldn't take the step forward. Cedric walked pass him and stopped to look over his shoulder at Harry, who was staring wide eyed at the door. Other passengers around them were already lining up to enter the flight but both of them stayed fixed, unable to explain what was happening in their lives anymore.

Something – someone – was pulling him back and Harry always knew that Cedric knew what was happening.

But it was frustrating, because Cedric still hoped for him to move on. Somehow it was harder than expected and Harry didn't want to move on anymore when nothing had been there at the first place.

He hadn't waked Tom up with loving kisses yet, not just for sex.

He hadn't cooked Tom breakfast and sang and danced and annoyed him early in the morning, no matter how grumpy Tom was.

He hadn't kissed him goodbye when it's time for them to part for work.

He hadn't held his hand, sat next to him while he does his work in the living room, kissed him on his forehead when he complains about his migraine and his stupid co-workers, washed his hair and rubbed his back, and kiss him good night every day.

Harry definitely hadn't spent his whole life with Tom yet.

Tom might be a little too awkward with feelings, too hard to soften, too heartless to be real; but Tom was all _Harry's_.

All Harry's and Harry's alone to love.

The way Cedric was looking at him at the moment was indescribable. It was as if he was challenging Harry to choose, and suddenly Harry felt his eyes blurring and warm.

"Cedric…" he slowly called out and Cedric finally looked away, exhaling a heavy and deep breath. He seemed to be trying to collect himself, to stay strong and to not break down. Harry knew Cedric was a brave man to love someone like him. Too brave to even be Harry's.

"Just… Just go, Harry." He responded and gave a small smile with his brown eyes avoiding Harry's. Harry took a shaky breath, quickly approached the older man to give him a tight hug. He was unresponsive but Harry couldn't care less when he has someone else to deal with – to love – now.

"Thank you, Cedric, thank you." Harry clenched his eyes shut and pulled away. Cedric only stared at him with those eyes filled with longing for a moment, gave another small but heartbreaking smile, and finally turned to take his leave.

Harry stood still for few minutes, watching until Cedric disappeared from his sight before he ran to pick up his bag. He walked as quickly as he could out from the airport, activating his cellphone back to life and trying to catch a taxi at the same time. He stared questioningly at the voice message he received before picking up and listened to it.

And afterward, everything was made up of blurs and nothing was of importance when his cellphone fell from his grip, crushed by the solid ground and burned his heart.

* * *

"Pancakes?" Harry asked, his short frame silhouetted by the sunlight from the kitchen windows, still wrapped in Tom's shirt that was too big on him but this time with an apron on. It was tied behind his back into a neat ribbon and Tom inwardly smiled at the sight.

Trust Harry to be so very particular and neat about things, even small ones.

"Yes, that would be nice." Tom answered instead, casually taking out a bottle of fresh orange juice. He poured a glass of it for Harry while waiting for his coffee to finish brewing. Harry hummed a song quietly, his hands skillful in mixing all the pancake ingredients. The atmosphere in the kitchen was calm and peaceful, the clock barely ticked to 8 in the morning and Tom was grateful both of them didn't have to go to work for today.

Once Harry was done making the pancakes, he placed them on plates, one in front of Tom and another for himself. Tom took his time to pour syrup on top of his meal, making sure to not make it too sweet. Harry, unlike Tom, poured almost half of the contents of the jar on top of his own pancakes. Sometimes Tom wondered how Harry, with such a sweet tooth, couldn't have a sweet talking mouth.

All it did was talk dirty, spew out sarcasm and flirt.

Not that Tom disapproved of any of them.

"So, what are we doing today?" Harry grinned at him, one fork with a small piece of pancake on it raised to his mouth. Tom frowned slightly at his etiquette. Harry always acts like a child when he was alone with Tom. It was endearing and Tom refused to smile at the thought like a fool in love he is.

"Nothing."

"What? You're no fun, old man. Already tired of the sex marathon? You can't get it up all the time now, can you?" Harry smirked and Tom rolled his eyes at him.

"Don't give ideas to me, Harry, you won't like the aftermath of it." Tom shook his head and smirked. The young model stared at Tom for a moment, his tongue slowly and sensually licked off the syrup from the fork in his hand. Tom stared back, refused to back down to the tempting desire.

"I bet you can't wait to fuck me on this breakfast table, wearing your shirt and tasting exactly like your favourite syrup."

No one ever called Tom an ill-mannered person. But Tom was, in every sense when it comes to Harry.

Tom was a ruthless, mean, impatient man, when it comes to Harry.

The manly squeak that Harry let out once Tom had him on top of the table was expected as the breakfast was pushed away harshly by his right hand and left hand pulled up Harry's – Tom's, Tom thought possessively – shirt to reveal his pale stomach. He trailed kisses on Harry's warm skin and smiled at the laughter he felt vibrating from his husband.

* * *

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, accident, Harry James Potter," are only words Harry managed to gasp out, exhausted by his running to the hospital counter service. The nurse looked up at him, gave a nod and quickly went through the record. Harry bet she had dealt with the same kind of feat many times already that she wasn't really troubled by it anymore.

"Emergency Room 8. Just go to the left and straight on. You'll find it at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you." Harry breathed out gratefully and quickly ran towards the direction. He couldn't think of anything at the moment, only how much he hoped it wasn't too late, and then it will never be too late and they'd have their forever and after no matter what.

The sight that greeted him at the entrance of Emergency Room 8 made him stop abruptly. An older woman was sitting down on one of the waiting seats, wearing a formal, bright brown knee length dress and a black coat to cover her body, her black hair tied into a messy bun and her skin was pale white. The woman then realized his presence, standing not close to her and she turned to look at him properly.

And what surprised Harry the most was her eyes.

If Harry didn't know Tom better, he'd say this woman could be anyone. But regardless of the colour, brown instead of dark blue, they were too familiar.

They were Tom's.

"You must be Harry." She said gently, standing up and she was definitely shorter than him. Harry felt his heart breaking soundlessly.

"You're Tom's mother?" he whispered and she nodded with a small smile.

"Yes, you can just call me Merope. The hospital told me that they called you straight from Tom's cellphone when they failed to reach me first… He's been inside for five hours straight now. I… I'm so happy that you came for him, Harry." Her smile widened a little more but her eyes were starting to turn glassy, mirroring Harry's and Harry, he laughed all in a sudden; his shoulders trembling and suddenly he was crying too and all was so messed up that Harry didn't know where he was anymore, what he was anymore.

Merope seemed to take pity on him, gracefully approaching him and wrapped her arms around him. Harry shut his eyes closed, hiding his face into her neck and laughed, and cried, and he didn't want to care anymore about anything. His hands clenched into fists behind her back and he bit his lip, not wanting to ever let go of something real now, when everything else just torn apart his world and ruined every single piece of his sanity he had left.

"Shh, he'll be all right, dear, have faith." She murmured into his shoulder and Harry tightened his arms around him.

"He never told me about you." Harry responded back, not wanting to sound accusing but that was all he could manage now without breaking down completely. He felt her hand rubbing his back gently and she laughed quietly, maybe with tears too.

"He never told me about you too. Not until the day he thought he had lost you."

Harry pulled back, green eyes wide and Merope looked up at him and gently touched his cheek with her palm.

"Tom is never the one to talk about feelings. But a man is nothing without them, dear, not even Tom."

* * *

"This!" Harry raised his hand that was holding a magazine and Tom stopped looking through his documents. His husband grinned and quickly skipped towards Tom. When his knees finally touched Tom's who was sitting down on the couch, he opened the page that he had marked with his fingers. Tom was torn between laughing and shaking his head in exasperated affection when he skimmed the page.

It was about their wedding anniversary a few days ago in France.

"'Two Years and Counting'. How cool is that?" Harry grinned, flopping down to sit on Tom's lap and Tom by instinct, wrapped his arm around his waist. He pressed kisses against Tom's neck while Tom took the magazine from his hands and read on. It was a typical article, about the supposedly private anniversary that went out of hand once Harry decided it would be fun to greet someone he knew at a famous café there.

Tom had spent two hours suffering through Harry and his acquaintances talking nonstop like they haven't meet for years – they probably did but that was none of Tom's concern – before he finally lost his patience and just dragged his husband out by his hand with a temperate but quick 'Nice to meet whatever-your-name-is but Harry has a husband to please now'.

Let's just say that Harry wasn't very pleased at him afterwards.

"This thing is rubbish." Tom rolled his eyes and just threw it away. Harry hit him half-heartedly on his shoulder before he rested his chin on it to stare at Tom's work on the coffee table.

"I thought you said today is off day." He mumbled, tone sulky and lips formed into an unmistakable pout. Tom turned and gave him a kiss on top of his head.

"You're an attention whore." He squeezed on Harry's waist and Harry chuckled.

"I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle's attention whore." He smirked at him. Tom looked at him unimpressed for few seconds and then promptly smacked him on his ass. It caused Harry to yelp and glare at him.

"You'd better be."

* * *

"Mother?" Tom quietly called out. The house that belonged to the ancestor from his mother's side was dark and he grimaced, as he slowly made his way to his mother's bedroom. The butler had told him that Merope was still sleeping and Tom had rolled his eyes at that. His mother was the Epitome of Staying Awake, usually caused by her depression and her loneliness.

Tom tried to bring her back to his mansion but his mother had refused, thus leaving Tom with no choice but obeying. He was worried about her at times, but telling her that wouldn't change the fact that Tom preferred to stay in the world of living than sticking with Merope in her dark, lonely world. Fortunately, she was getting better. Not good enough but at least better than she was before.

He carefully opened the door to her bedroom and gave himself a minute to look at his mother, who was sitting on a chair and staring out at the open balcony.

"Mother." Tom greeted softly and Merope turned to look at him. Her long black hair was braided beautifully, her motherly face remained young and for someone who always cries and feeling miserable, she still has the sweetest smile that Tom had ever saw – excluding Harry's –. She smiled at the appearance of her only child and reached out a hand. Tom slowly smiled, walked closer to her and wrapped her in a hug instead.

She laughed into his shoulder.

"What is happening in that big brain of yours now, Tom?"

Tom exasperatedly sighed, shaking his head while his face is buried in her neck. He could smell her favourite soap; the wonderful smell of rose and the sweetness of honey, combined. He kneeled down in front of her and kissed her on her temple.

"I just feel like seeing you, Mother." He quietly spoke, his eyes however, were lowered and void of delight. Merope smiled softly, running her fingers through her son's equally black hair. It seemed that the only trait that Tom got from her was the colour of her hair; the others, his build, his features, are all similar to her ex-husband's.

"What is it, Tom?" she murmured and Tom laid his head on his mother's lap. He sighed heavily, eyes closed as he remembered back to how Harry had left his mansion after breaking the news of his moving away to New York.

"Are you proud of me, Mother?" Tom asked instead, tilted his head up to look into his mother's brown eyes. Merope stared back at him for a moment before holding his head in her hands and kissed him on top of his head.

"Always, Tom."

"Then why I'm not proud of myself?" Tom asked again, his voice echoed inside the bedroom but this time, the question, seemed to be directed to himself rather than his mother. Tom stared at her eyes, as if looking inside her could give him answers that he needs and Merope smiled, one of those beautiful ones that were rarely seen, and Tom's favourite.

"Why does it feel like no matter what I do, I can't seem to be happy? Like there's a hole, deep inside of my chest. And I can't make it go away." Tom continued to murmur, laying his face down on her lap again.

"You are in love, Tom, are you?" his mother chided him and Tom shook his head, refusing to look up. She laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Now, now, don't be like that. Come and tell your mother about her."

"Him." Tom meekly corrected, face remained hidden and Merope patted him on top of his head.

"Okay, him then."

"His name is Harry. He's beautiful, Mother… He's perfect." Tom murmured quietly, exhaustion clear in his tone and his eyes suddenly felt warm.

'_But he's not mine.'_

Merope was quiet at the short response but continued to wait patiently. She leaned down to rest her cheek on Tom's temple, the habit that she always did to him – when his father was still with them, even when his father had decided to divorce his mother, married another woman and left Tom and Merope just like that – and Tom shut his eyes, willing the tears to finally fall and this time, no longer denying them.

"I'm… I'm so tired, Mother… I don't know how to deal with this. I'm so tired dealing with this." Tom quietly spoke into his mother's thigh and he felt long fingers running comfort through his hair. She felt warm and real against him, the only person who he had left for him now.

Tom sometimes wondered; if something ever happens to his mother, would he be able to stay sane any longer?

"Tom." She called for him and he nodded his head slightly, sniffing against her long dress.

"Hmm?"

"Loving someone is not about changing yourself and to be better. It is about something more than that… It is like looking at a part of you in someone else… It's like having your heart, outside of your body. You must be willing to stand up for him, to take care of him, to love him like how you love yourself. He is a part of you as well, Tom. You must accept him as how he is, and he must accept you as who you are too."

Tom stared silently at the wall, his cheeks dampened with tears and his hands slack on his knees. This was a weakness. This was something that Tom shouldn't be able – couldn't be able – to afford.

"This man that you were talking about, how long have you known him?" she asked softly, wiping the tear trail on his cheek. He blinked his eyes and mentally counted the days.

"3 years, 7 months and 25 days." He whispered and could felt Merope shake her head at him.

"Tom, Tom, what am I supposed to do with you? He stayed that long with you and you never mentioned him to me in any of your visits?" she patted him again and Tom clenched his eyes shut.

"I don't want him to be involved in my life, I don't want him to know the real me. I don't want him to know that my bastard of a father left me when I was barely 10 years old. I want him to be happy while thinking that this is me, that this is the whole of me… I want to be perfect for him, Mother. I want to stay as how he first saw me, I… I want him to love me _so_ _much_, Mother." Tom gritted his teeth; frustratingly clenching the hem of his mother's dress with his hands and _whimpered_. He thought of hitting himself, instead of just becoming the same 10 years old boy that couldn't understand why all in a sudden his life went upside down, why his father didn't want him anymore, why his mother drifted away from who she was before, happy and in love.

This is what he had tried so hard to avoid and Tom laughed while crying bitterly into his mother's lap, thinking how much Harry would have enjoyed seeing him like this, no longer standing tall and proud of himself, reduced into a helpless man who was too dependent on Harry even though they had nothing between them at all.

Merope stayed silent as Tom trembled against her body, fists clenching and unclenching nonstop on her dress and her lap was now soaked with his tears. It was hard to see him break down, the only occasions he ever did so in front of Merope was when his father left and when Merope was hospitalized after she collapsed in front of him, a few years after. After two those incidents, he completely changed.

Tom seemed to think that to be strong, he needed to throw away his heart. Because as heavy as his heart was, it could never ground him down to sanity, it could only hurt him more and more. He didn't even cry anymore when he attended his father's funeral later, his eyes dead and only a smile so fake it could be passed of real, pasted on his face.

Tom even found it ironic that his father said he lacked feelings, when he was the one who killed them in the first place.

And now, here he was, scrambling and desperate to get away from what he thought he had thrown away.

When his shoulders finally stopped shaking and his body slumped in exhaustion, Tom slowly raised his head and looked up at his mother. He felt blank now; his eyes were red and swollen, hair in a mess and skin pale. He took a slow breath, and buried his face again in Merope's stomach. Merope smiled bitterly and rubbed his cheeks with both of her thumbs.

"Tom, I might not be the best mother, the one that you deserve, but please, listen to me now." Merope murmured, tilting his head up to look at her again. Tom kept silent, too tired to actually do anything else at the moment.

"Give yourself a chance. If you love him enough, what else should matter?"

* * *

They were lying on their bed, both exhausted by the end of their dinner and rounds of love making. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, his chest to Harry's back. Somehow Harry had gotten quiet when Tom had kissed him gently and passionately after their orgasm, his green eyes dazed and he seemed to be so very far away.

"Tom?" he heard Harry murmur quietly, while scooting backwards, closer to him.

"Hmm?"

"You think we can be like this forever and ever?"

Somehow there was something wrong with the question because Tom suddenly found his breath uneven, unable to form better words against his husband's insecurity.

"I'm not one with sweet words, Harry, I'm a realistic."

"So? What are you trying to say?"

"I'm not going to let you go, _ever_, so you have to deal with sticking with me for every second of your life. I'm never going to let you go."

"Even when I hurt you?"

Tom felt dizziness overwhelm him and he slowly closed his eyes, the feeling of Harry's hands tightened on his marked on his skin forever.

"Even when you kill me."

* * *

Tom gasped loudly, eyes opened wide in shock and he heard footsteps rushing to approach him.

"Tom! Tom!"

Tom gritted his teeth, pain shot through his body and he couldn't grip anything solid to lessen his pain. He only saw Harry's green eyes, teary as they looked up at him. His face looked shocked and his hand trembled as it reached to stroke his hair back.

"Tom, you remember what happened?" he heard Harry whisper; worry thick in his voice and Tom scrunched his eyes, trying to remember clearly. The pain dulled after a while and now every part of his body was numb except for his hand and his face.

He remembered going to Harry's apartment, finding it empty and something constricted in his chest. He remembered driving so fast to reach Harry on time, and then he remembered waking up in the morning next to Harry and he remembered their talk before they went back to sleep later at night.

"Harry?" he tried to speak but his throat was dry and it was painful to speak, his voice hoarse and the younger man tightened the grip he had on Tom's hand – since when he was holding his hand?; Tom wondered – and leaned to rest their foreheads together.

"You got into a car accident. I was… I was going to leave here and then I couldn't, Tom, I couldn't." Harry bit his lower lip and Tom weakly turned his head to press a kiss against his flushed cheek.

"I didn't remember…"

"You scared me, Tom, I hate you doing this. Stop doing this to me." Harry shook his head, voice harsh with frustration and Tom had to chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. He could see his body wrapped in bandages and finally realized that he was in the hospital.

But yesterday, was it nothing but a dream?

"The doctor said you have a broken rib and you also broke your right arm. You lost a lot of blood and the hospital can only reach me. I told Cedric I couldn't do it and I was just about to call you when I got the call, I thought that I've… I've lost-"

"Harry, shh…" Tom sighed softly and tried to squeeze Harry's hand using his left hand and Harry broke down into tears again, face buried into Tom's shoulders. The older man stared dazedly at the mop of black hair, trying not to dwell on the strange dream that he had. Not long after that, Harry scrunched his nose adorably and looked up to stare at Tom with his red swollen eyes. Tom gave him a small smile.

"You came back." He quietly said and Harry nodded his head, sniffing and wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"For you, _always_." Harry tried to grin and Tom wanted to kiss him so much. He tried to sit up and the younger man helped him up, carefully touching him while minding his injuries. He slowly helped Tom to take a sip from a glass of water while talking about what had happened. It seemed that Tom had slept away two days after the accident. Harry hadn't gone home at all since day one and his mother was informed. Tom grimaced at the thought of Harry meeting his mother but all Harry responded to his obvious discomfort was a smile.

He was about to say something when the doctor and nurses came in to check on him. He tried to push away the medical helpers but even Harry sided with them. At the end of it, when they finally left them alone, Tom was starting to feel drowsy. Harry was close to him, his delicate fingers playing with a strand of Tom's black hair and Tom sighed softly, quietly content with his presence.

"Hey." Harry smiled a little, rubbing his thumb on Tom's hand. It was a tender gesture, the one that scared Tom so much at times, and now he couldn't decide whether to pull away or pull Harry towards him. Harry blinked his eyes at him when he didn't respond, and then carefully but quickly pulled his hand away, seemingly just realizing what he was doing.

Tom wanted to die, preferably in a deep dark abyss.

"I… I'm sorry…"

_Die_.

"What changed your mind?" Tom tried to sound strong, firm or anything but what came out was a weak attempt of asking for a reason. He watched as conflicting emotions played on the younger man's face and planned on saying '_just ignore whatever I'm saying now, I'm really high on drugs_' because he was just emotionally retarded and Harry couldn't deal with that very well too.

But when Harry opened his mouth to answer, Tom didn't expect him to sound so genuine. It felt as if Harry was the one who carried his heart to everywhere he went all this time while Tom deniably, wretchedly, mourned for the loss of it.

"I realized something at the airport." Harry stopped for a second, took a deep breath and looked down, cheeks tinted by shyness and Tom wanted to kiss them to a darker shade of red.

"I just couldn't. It's like I can't even look at myself when I thought about leaving you, like it's not worth it anymore… not without you. Not when you are there, real. Tom, you can do whatever you want. I won't ask anything of you, not when I got you here with me. But if you want me to leave," Harry stuttered a little, but then bit his lower lip and said quietly, "I will."

And Tom found it harder to look away.

Harry was slowly slipping through his fingers, like grains of sand, and Tom had no right to stop him. But here as the world were only for the two of them and Tom was hanging on a thin, breakable line, what was real or wrong doesn't matter anymore. What was true or false shouldn't exist, and what Tom had believed crumpled into nothingness.

"Funny."

Harry's eyes widened at his response and Tom chuckled at his own absurdity, looking up at the ceiling.

"I thought I was invincible but then you just came and ruined everything. And it was funny because every day, you make me think of wanting to wake up every morning next to you."

Tom closed his eyes, feeling sleepiness starting to take him away but Harry was stubborn, leaning close and breathed into him.

"_I love you but I'm scared of telling you that. Give me more time, please just give me more time. Don't leave, don't leave, I'm sorry you have to carry my heavy heart, but please, please don't ever leave. This scares me. You scare me. I've never had so much to lose and I just can't lose you. Not again. Never again."_

Their closeness sent shivers through Tom's body and the memories of tomorrow, the promises that were to come and those that Tom were to make real, running through his mind and Tom wanted to live just to stay like this forever. He could feel Harry smile against his cheek and a drop of tear – or maybe two – fell against his skin.

"I think of waking up beside you every morning too, Tom." Harry whispered throatily and Tom chuckled softly with his eyes closed. Their interlaced hands tightened and Tom threw away his past, Cedric, his principles and whatever that was left now to press a loving kiss on Harry's closed eyelid.

"_I love you too, darling heart."_

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END.

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A/N : Cliché, I know, oh shut it up. :p

I hope it's not really confusing. There are parts where Tom was dreaming while he was in unconscious. 2nd part happened is the climax where Harry started to look for another person when he thought Tom wasn't interested in him. Tom is just emotionally constipated, cripple man. And the plot is quite mess up but I believe my readers are smart people, of course they can get it. C:

Thank you for spending your time to read this story. It is my pleasure to write and serve all of you. :)

Review please.

(By the way, I just turned 21. This is a birthday present for myself and you too. :) )


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